


Scandal

by OneWhoTurns



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Empress Emily Kaldwin, F/M, Human Outsider (Dishonored), Post-Dishonored: Death of the Outsider, Romance, Touching, emsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14116905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/pseuds/OneWhoTurns
Summary: “If I asked you to-” The confident words died on her tongue as she met his gaze again. His pale, knowing, fiery gaze. She was breathless.“You know I would.”





	Scandal

“Yes, thank you, that’s - yes, that’s-” Emily found her irritation growing as the gentleman before her bobbed his bow again and again, but she kept her face placid. “Yes, Lord Durham, that’s very-” again, he bowed, “-very good. I wish you the best of luck with your endeavors, truly. Now, if you don’t mind-” She side-stepped the pinch-faced man who had been rambling on about some new projects he’d be able to move forward thanks to her most recent negotiations of trade agreements and… She sighed. It didn’t matter. Just the thought of policy meetings and paperwork made her legs heavy.

“Why do you let these people close to me?” Her voice was low as she directed the dry comment to her father, who had quickly fallen in step with her when she’d left her last conversation. “I swear, there’s some maniac pulling the strings who wishes to bore me to death. Aren’t you supposed to be  _Royally Protecting_  me?”

She just barely spotted Corvo’s crooked smile out of the corner of her eye as he ducked his head. “And I am, Your Majesty. Even if you don’t believe it.”

It irked her when he called her that. Like he wasn’t her father. Like he was just another servant of the Empire. “Corvo…”

He looked to her, an eyebrow raising in sardonic amusement, and she heard the whine in her voice as well.

She just wanted to stamp her foot and run away to her quarters, to be literally anywhere but here. She used to enjoy banquets like this - these celebrations of whatever the nobility were particularly grateful for in the moment. She liked them when she didn’t know what they were about. When she was disconnected enough from her empire to simply enjoy socializing with young nobles, flirting and grinning and being blissfully ignorant of the tangled web of politics working beneath it all.

And then the coup had happened, and all of that had changed. She’d cut down on the banquets - not a popular move amongst the wealthy nobility, but understandable considering the reparations that needed to be made after Delilah had thoroughly wrecked the Tower. And somewhere along the line, she’d lost her taste for frivolous pleasures.

It was disappointing, really. She hated being an adult. What she wouldn’t give to spend days drifting in and out of shadowy corners with smitten suitors - a young woman’s smile as she passed a particularly lurid love note; the taste of ice wine on the lips and tongue of a visiting royal son. Wyman’s poetry. Emily pursed her lips at the thought. That had been a rough goodbye. But upon returning from Karnaca, after everything she’d experienced… They hadn’t been the same. Or maybe they had, but  _she’d_  changed.

She fought the urge to rub her eyes. This was painfully dull. The people were boring and loud, the room was far too hot for her winter dress…

“You know, I think you’ve made your fair share of awkward conversation.” Corvo’s look was soft. But it almost always was, with her. “I don’t think anyone will miss you for a few minutes.” He looked pointedly to a small balcony at the back corner of the banquet hall, overlooking what could only very generously be deemed ‘gardens’ below.

Emily gave him a look of such relief – she wanted to hug him right there, but of course that would only draw attention. Instead she grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” she promised, steering them out to where tiny snowflakes were attempting entry to the Tower - all melting before they could accumulate. Beyond the balcony, though, snow had given a rolling softness to all the harsh corners of Dunwall Tower.

There were times she loved the Month of Ice.

“Take your time.” Her father closed part of the balcony entrance, cutting off some of the noise from inside. “I’ll keep an eye out up here. You know what to do if there’s trouble.” Emily nodded, a hand briefly passing over the sword at her waist. “Stay within eyesight, alright?”

She managed to give him a small smirk. “I wouldn’t be too worried, if I were you.” She tapped the back of her left hand - gloved, as always - an impish gleam in her eye.

Corvo frowned a little. He never had liked that, that she’d accepted the Mark of the Outsider, but he had stopped criticizing her for it fairly quickly. After all, she couldn’t just get rid of it. It would stay for as long as it would stay. Longer than the Outsider himself, apparently.

With a final smile to her father Emily’s hand was already directed off of the darkest corner of the balcony, and in no time at all she was on the ground, her heart making that tiny jump it always made when she used the powers of the Void.

It was freeing, really.

Finally away from the noise and the heat and the dreadful company, Emily took in a deep breath of crisp air. Out in the cold her clothes weren’t nearly as impractical - the wool of her dress jacket actually doing its job instead of weighing her down. The train of it skittered over the snow on the ground, almost hiding the footprints left by her dark boots as she stepped quietly around corners, making her way to a secluded spot overlooking the water. It was her favorite spot when the winds were howling, tucked away as it was from any strong gales, but tonight the air was still but for the gentle fall of snowflakes.

She looked into the air as she breathed out in a controlled stream, trying to spot her breath.

No, the lights weren’t quite bright enough, though she thought she might see a tiny speck of fog. She shifted her Marked hand briefly, wondering if her dark vision might pick it up, but there was no such luck. But she did notice something else.

“I was wondering where you’d be hiding tonight.” She addressed him almost casually as she rounded the final corner to the little sitting area.

The Outsider - she could never think of him by his new assumed title, it was too strange - sat placidly, looking out at the water. She still found it bizarre to see him free of Void smoke and echoes, though he’d now been staying with them for nearing on three weeks. As she came into view he stood, gracefully, bowing slightly. “Your Imperial Majesty.” He never bowed to the full depth one was supposed to bow to an empress, but she really preferred it that way. He’d been a god. Having someone with that kind of power bowing to her at all was unsettling. “Freed yourself of the weeds of nobility?”

“At last.” She made no attempt to hide the wry amusement in her tone, blinking away her dark vision so she might see him more clearly.

He was watching her - he always was, wasn’t he? - his eyes that had once been far too dark now far too pale. His brow creased just the smallest bit. “You’re using magic.”

The fact that he knew so immediately could have surprised her, but she’d grown less and less surprised by his enigmatic observations. “Only to see. No worries, I’m not trying to trick you.”

As she took a few steps closer he shifted down and brushed the thin layer of snow from the other side of the bench he’d been sitting on, giving her his previous seat. “Well, you know better.” There was a trace of amusement in his voice - nothing pronounced, but definitely present.

“I suppose I do.” She gave him a quick thankful nod as she sat, and he soon followed suit.

They sat in silence for a moment, Emily leaning forward, hands holding the edge of the bench as she gazed out in the direction of Karnaca.

“Do you miss it?”

She chanced a glance sideways. Of course she did. Being an empress was a horrible job. Running wild through the streets of Karnaca had been something else entirely. “Do  _you_?” She redirected the question back at him.

His lips twitched at her quick rebuttal, and for a second it looked like he might say something - some witty retort, probably. He was good at those. But instead he closed his mouth, his lips pressing together in thought as his chin tilted.

It was almost worse than the Void eyes, that piercing pale gaze. There was never a doubt as to where he was looking. It was at her. It was almost always at her.

He finally glanced down, looking to her hands. He held his hands out in front of him in a sort of example and, curious, she mirrored his position. He took hold of her left hand - her Marked hand - gently.

Emily was still amazed every time he touched her. Never would she think he could be so warm, so  _human_. He may have been slightly nipped by the cold of the snow, but a warmth still radiated from his palms as he drew her hand toward him. He glanced up, almost asking a question, and when she flexed her hand curiously he read her consent.

As one hand held her wrist, the other pushed back her sleeve a bit, past the edge of her glove, the pads of his fingers brushing against her skin. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt his touch - they’d passed food at meals, he’d had the typical “official” introductions complete with the mandatory ring-kiss and hand shaking - but it was certainly the most tender.

The strange pale-eyed man turned her palm down, delicately, one hand hooking two fingers under the bottom edge of her glove, tickling her wrist, while the other nudged the top edge as well, grazing over the back of her hand with a purposeful pressure as he slowly slipped the silk off. She shivered as the cold air met her naked hand – but she knew it wasn’t from the snow.

At her small movement his eyes glanced back up to hers, a flicker of something in them – surprise? Amusement? Intrigue? But he quickly returned to his task, pocketing her glove before drawing her hand closer to him. While he held her hand still, one of his fingers traced the Mark that still stained her hand. It was duller than it had been before, smudged a bit as though the ink had been touched just half an instant before it was fully dry.

Emily fought the urge to shiver again. She felt the goosebumps rising and wondered if he noticed. If he did, he said nothing.

“I don’t remember it.”

She was pulled from her strange trance by his words, and it took her a moment to comprehend what he meant as one hand still traced the hypnotic pattern on her skin.

“The language doesn’t exist anymore. It died out so long ago…”

She stared at the way his finger moved, feeling his touch like a small electric current that was slowly charging something deep inside of her. Was he trying to do this? To fluster her? “That’s…” Her voice was weaker than she’d intended, and she cleared her throat. “That’s sad.” She looked away, blinking, trying to focus on anything besides the static that drew her skin to his.

Something inside her caught and lurched violently as she felt his fingers locking with hers. His palm was warm, and she felt her fingers wrapping around his instinctually.

“Sad? Not particularly. Inevitable, really.” He drew her hand up just an inch or two closer to his face, but Emily wasn’t looking even as she felt his words ghosting over her skin. “4000 years is a long time.”

The air was thick as his words hung there, and she found she was almost holding her breath. What was she waiting for? What was he waiting for?

“I suppose that’s-” She made the mistake of looking toward him, and her breath caught in her throat. His head was cocked ever so slightly, eyes narrowed in careful and curious attention, looking directly at her. His finger traced the pattern by heart even as he held her gaze. “-That’s…. true.” It may have been snowing, but Emily was sure she’d never felt such heat as she did now. She forced herself to stay still even as her body was suddenly crackling with intention. Images flowed unbidden into her mind, and she looked away, unaware that she’d been squeezing his hand until she’d already loosened her grip.

From the corner of her eye he glanced down at their interlaced fingers. His hypnotic tracing slowed, his hand hesitating. “I’m sorry, did you want me to stop?”

Was he mocking her? She shifted her position, turning toward him, but his face held no malice. Pale eyes flickered to their hands, and she thought she saw something akin to disappointment in them as he started to unweave their fingers, pulling back.

“No!” Her whole body turned to face him, knee brushing his as she stopped his tracing hand before it got far, her other hand - still gloved - hovering, briefly halted on a path to take his.  _Don’t let go._  “No, I- I don’t mind.”  _I like it._

A small smile lifted his lips again, and the heat in Emily’s blood hadn’t cooled at all. He held her hands in his, thumbs rubbing small circles into her palms.

She couldn’t meet his gaze. She felt silly. And frivolous. And she felt unreasonably disappointed that there was still fabric keeping his hands from her skin. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the offending glove, but she didn’t want to stop him. And she didn’t want to let him know how much she wanted this to continue.

Of course, the Outsider had been studying humanity for centuries. She didn’t need to tell him anything. He kept his eyes on their hands as he slipped her other glove off, keeping his movement casual, graciously sparing her his gaze as she felt a blush rising up her neck. When his hand held hers again, her fingers twitched as though a small shock had been sent through them. She felt like the filament of a lightbulb: a current of energy passing through her, making her incandescent.

She wanted more. But in absence of more, she wanted to stay here, just like this.

The snow fell soft and silent around them, but Emily’s ears pricked up and she turned her head as she heard the chiming of the hour - the Clock Tower’s ringing muffled by snow, but the clocks in Dunwall Tower more audible.

How long had she been gone?

She could have spent an eternity here, and she wouldn’t have minded.

The thought only made her blush spread. She couldn’t stay here. She stood, and he followed, still holding her hands until she pulled one from his delicate grasp. “I should…” She nodded her head in the direction of the banquet, and felt the reluctance in her voice.

“Of course.” His reply was faster than she’d expected. Not the distant murmur she was used to. It was as though he too was trying to break from some stupor.

Emily was about to turn to leave, but she looked back to their last remaining point of contact, the last hand that held his. “…You should come.”

His smile was wry. “You know I’m no good at dealing with nobility.” Notoriously so. His first royal function as a Special Council member had been disastrous at best. “Besides, even my finest isn’t quite up to  _their_  standards.” He jerked his head toward the party.

Her lips lifted. “Nonsense.” She dropped his hand only to glance down at his jacket - newer, cleaner, but just as dark as the last - and brush away some of the snow that had gathered there. “You’re my guest. If they have a problem with it, they can take it up with me.” She straightened his collar in a business-like manner, clearing the snow from the seams. When she glanced back to his face, she found him thoroughly amused.

He put a hand on her wrist, stilling her movement, freezing her there. “We both know that’s not quite true.” His voice was low. But, of course, it didn’t need to be any louder, with her only a few inches away, hands holding his lapels.

And he was right. Irking the nobility would get her nowhere. It was her duty to the empire to keep the peace, and if an odd, unsettling Special Council member rubbed someone the wrong way… Well, it was probably better to mitigate the risk. She pursed her lips in vague irritation that he’d called her on it. She may have preferred not to remember.

There was the smallest fraction of movement as his eyes flicked quickly down to her mouth and back again. She blinked, half surprised. Here she’d thought it was just her. That she was the only one who’s skin sparked when they touched.

“If-” The word fell from her lips before she could stop it. She quieted again, glancing away, clearing her throat as she made to pull away.

His gentle squeeze of her wrist stopped her. “If?”

She licked her lips nervously before she could look at him again. No. No nerves: she was the Empress of the Isles. “If I asked you to-” The confident words died on her tongue as she met his gaze again. His pale, knowing, fiery gaze. She was breathless.

“You know I would.” His tone was serious, entirely free of any trace of humor or mirth.

Her eyes narrowed, surprise momentarily broken, lips slightly twisted in minor annoyance. “You’re awfully certain for someone who doesn’t even know what I was going to-“

His words cut her off, but his voice was still quiet. “If you asked me to kiss you? You know I would.”

Emily wondered if he could feel the sudden fluttering of her pulse in her wrist. Her hands didn’t tremble but she was certainly shaken, blinking the snowflakes from her eyelashes even as her lips parted slightly in surprise. Was she imagining his shortness of breath?

She tried to ground herself, grasping the fabric of his coat tighter, looking down from his too intense, too curious gaze. Did he know how he fascinated her as well? His whole existence was all questions. But as she stood in the snow - uncomfortably aware of the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, soaking up the warmth of his incredibly human body - only one question was on her mind.

“Are you asking?”

She never thought she’d hear that tone in his voice - something warm and dark and fascinated, always fascinated, but also… longing. There was some small touch of longing there. When she had the courage to meet his eyes she found his pupils large, darkening such a pale gaze. Their breath mixed, thin clouds in the cold air, as she looked at him.

“Yes.”

It was a slow, leisurely movement, his free hand cupping her cheek as he tipped forward just enough to rest his forehead against hers. His warm breath skittered down her neck, warming her all over, as his nose grazed her cheek, cold from the snowy weather. Her eyes had fluttered closed, breath shallow and lips parted and flush.

The first kiss was tame. Just a small brush of his lips against the corner of her mouth, his eyelashes tickling her face. It was disappointing, and she opened her eyes feeling hurt that that was how he’d chosen to fulfill her request – only to find him gazing into her again, something new and different alive in his eyes. Beyond mere interest, he looked entranced. By her.

He let go of her wrist, instead letting his fingers brush the side of her neck, coaxing her eyes closed again, and this time his lips captured hers without the tentative nature of the previous touch. She drew in a quick breath, his scent filling the air around her, and pressed right back into him, arms sliding around his neck and pulling him closer.

He didn’t taste the way she’d expected him to. Not that she’d spent all that much time thinking of how the Outsider might taste, but she’d had a preconceived notion that he would taste of the Void - cold, metallic, like the iciest air from the highest peaks: all ozone and precipitous heights. But instead she found him shockingly grounded. He was warm, and soft, and earthy. He reminded her of Pandyssian spices and the spray off the sea. The taste was fully human and entirely too intoxicating.

Another kiss and this time she pressed her body against his, sighing against his mouth and grazing her teeth against his lower lip. She felt his breath shudder at that, felt his skin grow warmer, his pressure against her lips more urgent. She hadn’t kissed like this in…

She couldn’t think, her mind overpowered by her body – stroking the line of his jaw, breaking away to share his breath, all the time her skin humming, conducting this electricity between them. She tangled fingers in his hair, the soft tugging drawing a low rumble from his throat. She felt herself practically purring in response. She wanted more of that. More of him. His hands pulled her body against him, his breath thick and audible, but she needed more than that, she wanted more, she needed -

She pulled away, taking a weak step backward. “I-” She didn’t even know what she was going to say. She was at a loss for words. What was she doing? Thousands of years in the Void alone and now she wanted to pounce on him? That wasn’t fair to him. “I’m sorry.” She looked down, trying to reclaim her Empress face, smoothing her clothes and checking her hair with a distracted hand. “That was- that was inappropriate, I shouldn’t have-” She cleared her throat, licking her lips, still tasting him on them. “I apologize.”

When she looked back up he was staring at her. His hair was still mussed from where her fingers had played, his lips were pink and parted, breath heavy. His eyes were completely ablaze. That look – that was 4000 years of solitude. She ached to take him back in her arms, to give herself over to whatever hunger was surely rampaging through his veins right now, but she couldn’t.

“Why did you stop?”

She’d never heard him so distracted, voice hoarse, his gaze darting between her eyes and her lips.

“We…” She almost doubted herself. “We can’t…” But her voice didn’t have the conviction she so wished it could.

There was a moment of pause, Emily avoiding his gaze, each of them breathing slowly until their blood cooled in the snowy air.

It was his turn to clear his throat and straighten his clothes. “Well.”

She glanced up, Empress face in place, hiding the worry she felt at his matter-of-fact tone – was he dismissing her? Was he angry at her for stopping? Was he angry at her for starting? But she needn’t have worried.

He took another step toward her, respectfully keeping his hands to himself, drawing her discarded gloves from his pockets. “ _‘Can’t’_  has never stopped you before.” His eyes were still burning, determined, a grim smile playing on his lips.

Emily’s felt her own small wry grin forming. “I  _can’t_  have an affair with a Special Council member.” She was only about 50% sure of herself on that statement. Taking the gloves from him, she pulled them back on with some chagrin.

He took her Marked hand, tracing the hidden symbol beneath the glove from memory. “Scared of a scandal, Empress?”


End file.
